This week I got a new phone, smarter than the old one I own.
It has camera and apps , and google and maps, for usage wherever I roam.
It asked me for passwords galore, goodness only knows what it will store.
I don’t like this game, It’s just not the same as the old phone I treasured before.
I could call upon all that I knew. I could message – and it would get through
The number was fine, I said it all the time and displayed it on business cards, too.
The new phone opens with a swipe, and, so far, I’ve only one gripe
The battery drops, so I turn it Off. Are these smarty phones worth all the hype?
A phone that is off is no good. It might just as well be pure wood-
But a camera – that’s swell, taking pictures as well, to post out – if only I could!
Well, old phone really. It is full with names and keeps cutting out. I need to swap numbers. I’ll let you know if it works but so far I’m not sure messages are getting through to me on the new one. It said I had 3 messages but I couldn’t find them, unless they were advertising stuff. I’ve tried to block that and we’ll see what happens when someone contacts me. I daren’t change over until I know how to work this one!
Charity Gig tonight and I hope I’ll have some pictures tomorrow.
What is wrong with the world today? You can’t believe a word they say.
They tell us they want to stop a war and then go off and bomb some more.
They tweet and jeer to not lose face until we fear a new arms race.
Yet still parade like special friends as if sport all the trouble ends.
There’s poison smeared upon a door, something we’ve never seen before.
Two people almost die and still we do not know who made them ill.
It’s frightening how we do not mind if no more elephants we find,
If all the trees are felled and burned and calls to save the planet spurned.
And while we all pollute the sea with plastic, they cannot agree
To treat our world with love and care knowing this is the earth we share.
I waddled, with my trolley load, along the pavement cold and grey,
When all at once a hooded form upon two wheels took right of way.
He zoomed around me from behind, I had no time to move aside
No warning shout, no bell, no sign that on the actual road he’d ride.
I could have tripped and fallen down, he rode so sure, so near, so fast
He saw me, but I did not know, just felt the wind as he flew past.
Oh youth, due on the other side, why can’t you travel on the lane
And leave a poor old soul alone, to drag her shopping home again?
At last I think I understand- this voice inside my head
A constant conversation, is something you don’t have!
While, all the while, my active mind makes words inside my brain
And plans, observes and thinks, and clamours to be heard-
You carry on so unaware, the phone inside your head
Switched off! No noise at all. No chatter there, just peace.
No wonder, when I voice my thoughts, and say what’s in my head
You start- as if a bell rang out. Alarmed , you concentrate.
I may have voiced my thoughts out loud. They should stay in my head
For , unless there’s action to be done, you’d rather I’d not said!
I’ve seen you, squirrel, when you’ve found the nuts you’ve buried underground.
There’s sparrow, pigeon, tit and crow, some on the holders, some below.
The choice is there of feeders three, each on the branch of the fir tree.
The first, a treat of suet fat. The blue tits like to hang on that.
The next a cage with seed inside, ‘It’s squirrel proof’ declared the guide.
Another suet treat hangs there, three balls, to get them you must dare
To leave the fence, a gymnast be-your tail curled round the leafy tree.
You hang suspended upside down, alone, now that the birds have flown
And now your efforts bring reward-you can add suet to your hoard.
For anyone finding me through the website I feel I haven’t given them enough poetry. The Friendship Centre New Year party has a French theme and I am stretching it as far as I can with some information about the Isle de France ( Mauritius) I realise they were extinct before the French arrived but I found a poem about the dodo that I thought would amuse the members. It is by Hilaire Belloc.
The Dodo used to walk around,
And take the sun and air.
The sun yet warms his native ground-
The Dodo is not there!
The voice which used to squawk and squeak
Is now forever dumb-
Yet may you see his bones and beak
All in the Mu-se-um.